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I glanced up from the papers I was signing while sitting behind my desk. He approached and sat on the chair opposite with his arms resting on the sides.
“Is this about the assembly with Hamal?” I leaned back in my seat.
The Lord of Ulrik was the most considerable pain in my ass. With his ability to replicate himself, as well as heal others, he was a burdensome opponent to deal with on the field. I secretly hoped Ayen would choose for him to be challenged by someone who could defeat him, and I could finally try to end this rivalry with the neighboring Nation. Someone new and fresh. The fucker didn’t even have to challenge in the last Trial.
Mavris nodded. “All the diplomats will return to their posts in a few days. The one from Ulrik says he’s concerned with the rising tension there. We previously arranged for the Riyah Scholar and Sage representatives to come to discuss the new border issues. Ulrik remains wary about citizens trespassing and is looking to increase security. Riyah wants them to back off and allow for more open passage and trade.”
I shook my head and forced myself not to roll my eyes at the absurdity of Hamal’s paranoia. “I leave in two days. I’ll already be at the Temple by the time the representatives arrive.”
“I know. I’m just keeping you informed. I’ll deal with it as best as I can until you return, and at least make sure their Watchdoesn’t start an all-out war. But is there anything you’d like me to say on your behalf?”
“I’d appreciate that. And, yes, tell Riyah we’ll cooperate. I’m tired of Ulrik’s petty demands preventing us from having a treaty.” I was tired of a lot of things.
“But if Hamal is challenged, that could solve a lot of issues.”
“And if he’s not and I am, and defeated, that will leave the Nation vulnerable. It needs to be laid out before then. I’ll write up an outline of my new offer. Hopefully, Hamal’s advisor will consider it.”
With that, Mavris bowed his head and left.
At dusk, the night before the Trial, I stood on the palace roof, looking down at the city again, next to Mavris, who was waiting for me when I arrived.
“You’ll help the next Worthy should it be needed,” I commanded.
“Ryk—”
“Don’t start, Mav,” I clipped. “If I’m challenged, I will fight with everything I have, but realistically, I may not survive. And if that’s the case, you will do what is best for the Nation and assist the new Worthy.” I placed my hand on his shoulder. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that. I’d hate to get pissed on in the Rip.”
The side of his lip twitched up briefly before his eyes flicked over my shoulder. I turned to follow his gaze to find Theron waiting.
It was time.
With a pat on Mavris’s shoulder, I stepped back and walked to Theron. With what may have been my last glance at my brother, I nodded and placed my hand on Theron’s side.
“Goodbye Ryk.”
“Goodbye Mav.”
Chapter Nine
Kya
The morning of the Trial, I maneuvered my weary horse through a forest at the southern end of Dusan and beyond the treeline at the base of a grassy hill. We kept off the common path to avoid passersby and any possible adversaries. I rode for three days straight, stopping only to eat and rest for a few hours at night. I probably pushed the old mare more laboriously than I should have, but I wanted to spend as much time as I possibly could at Morah before I had to leave. And we arrived right when I intended.
“Well done mare. We made it,” I sighed.
We came upon monumental boulders that were scattered along the hill—a result of the formation of the Rip—indicating the grounds of the temple. At the top of the hill sat the square-shaped Temple of Odes. The back side of the temple rested directly at the edge of the Rip.
An enormous, jagged chasm cut through the land, so wide that you couldn’t see the other side with your naked eye. This was where Odes fell. It was a sight unlike any other. Black mists swirled just beneath the cliff’s edge and down into the bottomless abyss of the Rip. The sight was ethereal and unsettling. Nomatter how many times I laid my eyes on the chasm, I still found myself overwhelmed with astonishment at the world’s scar.
My horse nickered as we made our way up the hill and navigated through the various tents on the grounds, some cloth and others made of rock protruding from the land. The Lord or Lady of each Nation were required to attend the Trial as well. They were forced to engage in a challenge with the emerging Worthy to keep their title or lose their life. It was a cruel but necessary system, and was sanctioned by the Sages. With the use of an elixir, the current Lords and Ladies would have their magic temporarily nullified since the new Worthy were untrained with their new magic.
At least they somewhat leveled out the field.
In order to keep the magical balance, therecouldonly be six Worthy alive at one time—one for each of the remaining Gods and their Nations. The Worthy of Gaol was chosen by Noxelia. Dusan was loyal to Udon. Torx, Cethar. Oryn, Xareus. And Ulrik, Ayen.
However, there had only ever been five Worthy at one given time. One of the Goddesses, Kleio, had never chosen a contestant. Not once in the past few millennia of Trials, and no one knew why. She was known as the Silent God. Her land was Atara, and the only Nation with a Lady that was chosen not by the Gods, but by the people.
Maybe that’s why it was destroyed, it angered the Gods that a non-Worthy was the Lady of a Nation.
